


one for each night, one for each memory

by Sunbomb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunbomb/pseuds/Sunbomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Every time you light a match, you’re supposed to blow it out and make a wish!” Bokuto announces while they’re trudging up the stairs to the school building.<br/>It's not true. It also doesn’t phase Akaashi in the slightest. He has heard worse, considering this is the same man who once told Akaashi he was only going to respond to the name “Beefmaster” for the rest of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one for each night, one for each memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ginkata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginkata/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY OWAIN!!!!!!!! I love u very very very very very very very much. i hope u like this fic homie

The matchbook has seen better days.

It’s a tiny thing, sporting the dirty logo of an American brand that Akaashi has never heard of. It looks like it’s been run over several times, the dark treads of numerous tires smudged into the dingy red surface and crinkling the cover into something ugly. Bokuto holds it over his head like it’s a prize; not something he found in the parking lot under the volleyball bus while he was trying to retrieve one of the shoes that fell out of his bag.

No one else in Fukurodani will pay attention to the piece of garbage that has captured their captain's attention, so Akaashi does what he does best: Humor Bokuto.

“Every time you light a match, you’re supposed to blow it out and make a wish!” Bokuto announces while they’re trudging up the stairs to the school building.

It's not true. It also doesn’t phase Akaashi in the slightest. He has heard worse, considering this is the same man who once told Akaashi he was only going to respond to the name “Beefmaster” for the rest of the week. Instead of gracing the idea with a reply, Akaashi simply hums to let Bokuto know that he’s listening.

If matches were wishes, Akaashi’s life would be a lot different right now. It would be colder, for one. Idly he considers making that his first wish, but a frown overtakes his face when he realizes that he has fallen into Bokuto’s game already.

God, it really is hot, though. The thick summer air slows Akaashi’s response, sweat running down his back as he walks in tandem with Bokuto towards the doors of the school housing the training camp this year. “You’re thinking of birthday candles, Bokuto-san.”

Someone in front of them laughs. Akaashi can’t tell if they’re listening to his conversation or not. He silently apologizes, just in case.

“No, I’m not!” Bokuto seems adamant about his claim. As soon as they hit the top of the stairs, Bokuto holds out the matchbook for Akaashi to take. Akaashi simply stares at him, sweat running down his neck and pooling on his spine, sun blazing overhead and distorting the air around them into hot waves. Bokuto spins his arm in a circle until Akaashi is unable to stand the motion any longer and snatches the matchbook out of his fist. It feels dirty against his palm, like the grit from the street has rubbed into the creases of his skin and contaminated his touch.

The look he gives Bokuto is inquisitive, no words required. He knows that Bokuto will understand. It’s how their relationship works.

“I can’t light it,” Bokuto explains like it’s obvious. Maybe it should be, because Akaashi is not surprised at this confession. “My hands are too big. You have to do it for me. Come on! I want to make my wish before I forget it!!” 

Akaashi does so, because that’s what his life has become. He lights the match with one sharp strike and the promise comes alive before them.

The heat from the flame as it burns down the stick is noticeable against his fingers, even though the tiny spark is almost entirely engulfed by the light of the summer sun. It seems oddly out of place, flicking between them, but Akaashi can’t put his finger on why. 

It doesn’t matter. The second Akaashi looks up, none of it matters.

Bokuto looks entranced. Wildfire flickers in the striking gold of his eyes. There is magic in them, something otherworldly that rips the air out of Akaashi’s lungs and leaves him stranded at the stop of the stairs. How many times has he looked at Bokuto and had this same feeling? The feeling of falling even though he’s standing, the quickening of his heartbeat, the dizziness that comes with standing in the sun too long. Akaashi doesn’t have long to ponder, because as soon as the fire is lit it’s gone, extinguished in one breath by Bokuto’s wish.

Akaashi crushes the ashes beneath the toe of his shoe and the hopeful feeling stays with him all day.

   

   

The second day, Akaashi is sitting outside on the steps leading towards the gym eating watermelon when Bokuto appears yet again, holding out the tiny matchbook like a peace offering. Akaashi takes a thoughtful bite, the juice running down his chin and sticking to his hand when he tries to wipe it away. 

“Do you have another wish?” He asks around a mouthful of fruit. It makes it sound like he’s the one granting them. Maybe he is, in a way.

“Yeah, of course. But you didn’t make one last time, remember?” Bokuto asks. Akaashi remembers. That moment was hard to forget. “So you have to do it this time.” 

“I don’t have a wish.” Akaashi lies, sticking out his tongue a little to pick off a stray seed.

Where Bokuto is persistent, Akaashi is steadfast. He eats more watermelon, leaving the rind on the bottom step so he can watch the ants match along rather than listen to Bokuto ramble about how everyone has wishes and how if you don’t make them there will never be any chance of them coming true. The sun beats down hard, burning the back of Akaashi’s neck while he stares intently at the ground. The ants come like he expected. They walk in one straight line, tiny legs carrying them to and from. It’s not very interesting.

Bokuto is still talking. His voice is warm and deep despite the whining. Akaashi figures he could pick it out from a crowd in a heartbeat. It doesn’t help that Bokuto is louder than anyone he knows. 

Eventually, when the rest of Fukurodani begins to head back into the gym and they’re finally alone, Akaashi relents. He takes the new match between gummy fingers, the sweet juice of the watermelon staining the wood a muted pink. Another quick strike and the flame is alive in his hands, once again overpowered by the hot afternoon sky. It burns slowly, less lively than the first time. There is no magic lying dormant this match. In some way he didn’t think possible, Akaashi is disappointed.

They sit in silence for a moment, the hum of cicadas and the intelligible chatter from the rest of the teams filling in the blanks where words don’t seem to fit.

“I know you have one,” Bokuto says finally. The words hang in the humid air. “Everyone has something they want.”

Akaashi does.

Akaashi has only one wish. It’s the same wish that he makes on every dandelion, every shooting star, every coin hitting the stagnant water of a mossy fountain. It jumps to his mind instantly, overwhelmingly. His chest constricts, lungs overtaken by butterflies, and he exhales hard enough that the fire flickers in his hands and threatens to disappear altogether. The unattended flame eats down the wood close enough to burn him. Akaashi’s eyes, flat, disinterested, remained locked onto Bokuto’s.

The staring feels like a challenge. They sit in silence for another moment before Bokuto becomes visibly agitated and Akaashi sighs out his regrets. He takes a deep breath in, the smoke filling his lungs and stinging his tongue. It takes like hope and desperation.

His wish is not something a match can handle.

He makes it anyway.

   

   

The third day, Akaashi waits. He wakes up in the morning, brushes his teeth, eats breakfast with Konoha and Sarukui, stretches, helps Bokuto find his knee-pads, stomps Karasuno in another match, and, more than anything else, Akaashi waits. It isn’t until later that night, after the two players from Karasuno leave the gym and the rest of Nekoma files in that Bokuto finally turns and speaks.

“Hey, come outside with me for a sec'?”

Bokuto is holding something behind his back. Akaashi knows what it is, but the idea that its a secret for just the two of them makes his heart rate speed up. 

“I thought you finally forgot,” Akaashi says easily, stepping outside into the warm summer air, following dutifully after Bokuto to the steps where they ate watermelon the previous day. The memory seems nostalgic already. The wind brushes carefully over Akaashi’s skin and cools the fire in his blood, the smoldering flames in his bones. The stars here are few and far inbetween, tiny sparks on the horizon that hold promise of the universe.

“C’mon, Akaashi! Like I could ever forget!” Bokuto smiles and claps his hand on Akaashi’s back and suddenly, just like that, it’s real.

Now they have their own star, casting tiny shadows into space, burning brightly despite all odds. Everything has led up to this moment. This time, the flame is the center of a universe made for two, and Akaashi feels at peace.

“Would you like to blow it out at the same time?” he asks. Bokuto nods. They both lean in.

The cicadas hum loud, but the silence is deeper this time, enveloped by the night. There is nothing to look at besides Bokuto. There is never anything to look at besides Bokuto. Akaashi can see each bead of sweat on his skin, each flicker reflecting in his eyes, each shadow cast by long eyelashes. Akaashi’s lips move to speak, but there are no words to fit this moment. There is never anything to say. 

This isn’t something that he should anticipate this much and Akaashi silently scolds himself for acting this way. Maybe it’s the idea of wishing for love when the person that holds his affection is right across from him, separated only by the sweet summer air, that makes his heart beat so wildly. He can feel the tension break when Bokuto breathes out, exhaling his own silent promise to the flame; to Akaashi. Akaashi whispers back, smothering the fire and leaving behind only hope.

They destroy their universe together.

  

  

The fourth day comes and goes. Akaashi sits with his head in his hands, watching the sun set behind the hill that sentences their punishment games. Komi and Bokuto are rolling down said hill, chased by Konoha until he trips and ungracefully joins them down. They stand, dizzy and covered in grass, laughing into the twilight while they climb back to the top.

They’re all older than Akaashi physically, but mentally is perhaps another story. Sarukui snorts a laugh from next to Akaashi. The easy smile on his face is soothing.

“How long until someone gets hurt?” Akaashi asks. It wasn’t fully intended to be humorous, but the smile remains on his senpai’s face anyway.

“¥500 on Konoha.”

Akaashi allows the tiny smile to show on his face.

   

No one ends up getting hurt. Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s hand with grass stained fingers and it feels like summer in his palm, rough and calloused and warm. By the time they reach the top of the hill the sun is almost entirely gone, replaced by balmy air and every shade of orange Akaashi can imagine.

“That’s pretty,” Bokuto comments. “I like summer. Hot’s better than cold, I think.”

“That’s because you don’t wear a sweater in the winter.” Akaashi turns to face him. The wind ruffles his hair and kisses the heat of his cheeks.

Bokuto pouts at the accusation, but he can’t deny it. “They don’t fit! And they're itchy! Besides, how am I supposed to show off these guns if I’m wearing a sweater!”

Bokuto flexes said guns. Akaashi pointedly looks away.

The exchange continues until the sun sets completely, replaced by the vast night. The stars return, slowly shaking themselves awake before they reach their full potential as the majesties of the sky. Bokuto lays back on the hill, ripping out handfuls of grass and sprinkling them on Akaashi, who brushes them off into Bokuto’s face. 

This is right. This is how Akaashi’s has always wanted it to be. The two of them, beneath the warm sky, comfortable in each other's presence. Bokuto talking about anything and everything, about the stars and satellites and volleyball. Akaashi hums along, the burn in his chest working its way into his lungs and fingertips. It is a familiar sensation, a feeling he only gets around Bokuto: the overwhelming sense of belonging to something. 

The air smells as hot as it feels. Akaashi closes his eyes and tries to imagine he is somewhere else. He tries to imagine this moment in the future, the past, in somewhere he cannot define. No matter where he goes, Bokuto's presence is always there. It feels like home. Akaashi opens his eyes. 

They sit face to face, huddling around their star to protect it from the hot summer wind. Akaashi shields it with his hand, cupping it between his battered fingers. The heat against his palm reminds him of Bokuto’s hand in his own just moment ago. It’s calms him enough to look up.

Bokuto’s breathing is as loud as the rest of him. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes.

 _I like you._ Akaashi mouths into the silence before everything goes dark. 

   

   

The fifth day, when Akaashi walks to Fukurodani’s self-appointed table in the cafeteria, there is money scattered across the surface. The highest amount he can see on one bill is ¥2,000, but there are a good number of others papering the tabletop.

“Do I want to know?” Akaashi asks calmly. The answer is most likely no.

Konoha opens his arms in a friendly gesture. “It’s nothing, Akaashi! We’re just having some fun.”

Onaga nervously collects all the money and stashes it to the side. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone at the table. Konoha glances over and then back, grinning a little sheepishly.

Akaashi glares at his seniors. “You’re corrupting your kouhai.”

“We are not!” Komi chimes in from behind Konoha. “He just happens to be the most trustworthy one here. It’s more like... he’s being celebrated for resisting this long!”

“Exactly!” 

They hold their victory pose for a moment before Sarukui flicks rice at Komi’s face and the situation dissolves back into laughter and yelling. Onaga gives Akaashi a helpless smile, a silent version of an apology. Akaashi eats his onigiri and tries not to think so hard about what exactly they were betting on.

Bokuto explodes into the cafeteria in typical Bokuto style, slamming his breakfast onto the table and announcing that he has arrived, like everyone didn’t notice before. “Hey! Guess what! I had the _weirdest dream_ last night! Do you guys want to hear?” 

He’s serenaded by a chorus of “no’s”. He tells the story anyway.

   

It’s home when Bokuto is here. Everyone’s apprehension vanishes instantly. Bokuto brings them together, makes sure everyone is involved, even Akaashi and Washio who prefer to observe. Most people consider Bokuto the “baby” of the group once they realize his weaknesses, but that has never been true. Bokuto Koutarou has been nothing but the pillar holding their team up since he became captain, maybe even before then. Akaashi will be the first to admit it.

No matter the game, no matter the situation, Bokuto has been nothing but supportive of his team. His ideas may be bad, and more often than not things end in disaster, but Akaashi has never truly seen Bokuto fall apart, not once. Perhaps that’s when he first recognized that he was love he was experiencing, not just respect. Akaashi takes another bite of his breakfast, watching Bokuto try and shove a bagel into Konoha’s mouth as punishment for interrupting.

Dinner goes much the same way. The pot of money has grown bigger since the last time Akaashi had the misfortune of seeing it.

“Would you kindly tell me what you’re betting on?” Akaashi asks, though it’s more of an underhanded demand than the polite question he dressed it up as.

Konoha, Sarukui, and Komi all smile in unison. They continue to be in perfect sync as they dive to stop Washio from spilling their secret when he opens his mouth to speak. Onaga once again collects the money, ignoring his upperclassmen as they revolt against who knows what. Akaashi finds himself oddly proud.

When Bokuto arrives again, this time trailed by Kuroo and the tiny wing spiker from Karasuno, the volume level only increases. Akaashi didn’t even know it was possible for one group of people to argue over the usage of the word “sizzle” for this long. He finally excuses himself from the table when Bokuto begins to rhythmically slam on his hands on the surface, chanting “It’s ‘sizzle me’! Sizzle me, Konoha!”

   

Glancing up at the heat-hazed horizon, Akaashi walks one slow step at a time up the hill, chasing the sun as it begins to set behind the buildings in the distance. He’s alone for maybe a minute, enough time to sit down and pick a dandelion, before Bokuto comes charging up to shatter the serenity.

“You didn’t have to follow me,” Akaashi says as he watches Bokuto make himself comfortable on the grass next to him. The shadows make his biceps appear more defined. Akaashi allows himself another moment just to stare.

“Yeah, but I did.” Bokuto glances up. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. “What? I like hanging out with you, man.”

“I do as well, Bokuto-san.”

It’s nothing but friendly conversation, but the butterflies in Akaashi’s lungs flutter into his throat and form a tiny smile on his face. The silence rests between them for a moment, the thick air settling softly onto the grass with them like an old friend. Akaashi twirls the dandelion between his fingers enough times that the seeds begin to fall off on their own, catching in the wind.

When Bokuto catches Akaashi’s attention again, he’s on his side, propping his head up with his hand. He holds up the matchbook and Akaashi takes it slowly.

He has only had one wish his entire life, only one thing that he’s actively hoped for, but tonight it’s different. Tonight, Akaashi Keiji wishes for courage.

   

   

The sixth night is their last night together. Akaashi sighs into the stuffy classroom, shifting on his futon while he tries to get his mind off the nervous feeling that has plagued him all day. His new wish has not come true. He is not feeling courageous in the least. 

Next to him, Komi mumbles something incoherent in his sleep. Akaashi nods absentmindedly.

It’s late, maybe 11 or so when the door opens and Akaashi’s eyes snap shut. He tries to regulate his breathing so that no one will notice he’s awake, but whoever has entered the room walks directly towards him regardless of his attempt to keep still. He is shaken ‘awake’ by Bokuto and it kills him.

“What is it?” Akaashi asks as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like he hasn't been awake for hours.

“Come with me, please?” Bokuto whispers as quietly as possible for him.

Akaashi nods once and takes Bokuto’s hand in his own. It feels like summer.

  

They stand face to face at the top of the stairs, where they began, where they will end. Hot wind tousles Akaahi's hair. There is no sun in the sky but, despite everything, the fire remains in Bokuto’s eyes. 

Akaashi lights the match with one sharp strike and the promise comes alive before them.

Bokuto closes his eyes. Akaashi can see his jaw lock when he takes a deep breath in. The galaxy in his hand flickers once and is gone.

The smoke curls around them. It is lighter than fire, but always there, the ever present aftermath of destruction. Where there is fire, there is smoke. It has been there with each wish, stinging Akaashi’s lungs and resting behind his eyes. He swallows hard and it tastes like he has swallowed the flame. 

Where there is fire, there is smoke. Where there is Bokuto, there is Akaashi.

"Bokuto-san."

It is silent for a long moment. Akaashi breaths and the world stops spinning. The feeling in his chest is a wildfire. 

“I like you.”

Bokuto's eyes widen with shock. Akaashi drops the matchstick next to the corpse of the original; his first wish. This time he destroys their universe alone.

   

   

“Akaashi! Sit next to me!” Bokuto pats the empty seat on the bus and Akaashi complies, settling next to his boyfriend. Bokuto rests his arm on Akaashi’s shoulders and pulls him in close, neither of them minding the heat pouring in through the window.

In the seat across from them, Konoha fans himself with the money from his winnings.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto begins again, like he could never get tired of saying his name. “Ask me what my wish was.”

Akaashi’s smile is small, but it is genuine. “What was your wish, Bokuto-san.”

“That would you believe me when I said that matches were wishes. It’s not real, you know! I made it up ‘cause I needed something to say and I panicked. Also I wished that you wouldn’t get mad when I told you. You’re not mad, right?” Bokuto actually looks nervous, smoothing down his hair with a free hand.

Akaashi pats his arm, the warmth in his chest swelling. “No. I’m not mad. I knew it wasn’t real from the beginning.”

Bokuto tilts his head. “Really? So we were both just pretending the whole time?”

Maybe that wasn’t the right reply. Akaashi definitely was not pretending, but he couldn’t single out the point where the disbelief stopped and the hope began. “No…” He murmurs carefully, picking at his lip in thought.

“Then what did you wish for?”

The bus jostles to a start, the loud hum of the engine as they began to move distracting them both for a moment. Akaashi glances out the window at the stairs, at the hill, at the heat-hazed horizon.

“Doesn’t matter. It already came true.”

**Author's Note:**

> Konoha's Current Concern: He's started to get the feeling that if you look at Bokuto's stupidity from a slightly different angle it's actually kinda genius and that pisses him off.


End file.
